She Was Holding Me
by FlickerInTheDark
Summary: A pointless, story about Alexander Hamilton remembering his mother. ONE-SHOT
**A/N: Let's pretend Mother's day existed in the 1700s but with Mother's Day coming up I had to write a little something. I just see so little works with Alexander and his mother. Note, Alexander's mother died of what many sources say was a fever. I went with that and I know Alexander had siblings but I am lazy. This work came about during a stressful time, so it is not my usual quality so apologize, but I had a blast writing it. Enjoy.**

On the evening of mother's day, the Hamilton family has settled down. Philip was in his room, while Eliza told him a bedtime story. Angelica had fallen asleep earlier and was now sleeping peacefully in the nursery. The day had been filled with laughter. The family had celebrated Mother's Day very simply. They four of them walked around the city, enjoying the sights and remarking on how the nation was progressing.

Philip had run off and before his parent could chase after him, came rushing back it a handful of a mixture of weeds and flowers.

"For you mama," Philip said thrusting the foliage at Eliza, who graciously took then and smelled them.

"Thank you my little prince. How thoughtful," she smiled down and the beaming boy.

Alexander thought Eliza was the best mother in the world. She always took the time to ensure her children were content and made sure she took time to be with her children. Mother's of that time were very distant form their children, and allowed nurse maids to care for them. Eliza had always been firm that her children would be raised her and no other woman.

They spent the evening playing the piano and when it was time for bed, Eliza ushered Philip up the stairs.

In this absence Alexander went up to their bedroom and he sat down in the large armchair. Alexander thought back on his own mother.

 _Please not now,_ he thought as tears began to prick his eyes. But once he thought of his mother it was hopeless.

He suddenly felt pushed back to St. Croix. He was only 12 and it was February. Unlike the colonies February was just as warm as any other month. It started when he came home from a day at school to find his mother in bed.

"Mother," he said dropping his bag and rushed to his mother, "Are you alright?"

"Yes, Alexander I'm alright. Just a bit weak, thought I ought to rest for a bit."

Alexander got nervous. He knew that feeling "a bit weak" wasn't normal. He knew plenty of people who would be fine one day and the next day be dead.

That night, dinner was sparse. His mother had not gone to market, nor was there much food in the pantry. Alexander did the best he could with a crust of bread and the remains of some salted pork. Hunger was not uncommon as his mother made very little from the shop she worked in. But that night the hunger was so visceral, nothing would satisfy.

His mother noticed her child's hunger and gave him her piece of bread.

"But mother, you need it. For strength," Alexander interjected.

"It's fine. I'm not very hunger this evening," she said pushing the bread to him. Alexander ate the bread, more out obedience, then hunger. Every chew, made the bread taste drier and he felt guilty for eating it.

That night his mother sat up coughing. Alexander slept on a small cot next to the bed.

"Mother?" he asked tentatively in the night.

"Yes?" his mother coughed.

Alexander then decided to light on of the precious candles. When he lit the candle he saw his mother with a handkerchief to her face. As she turned he saw she had blood lining the corners of her mouth.

"Mother!" Alexander bolted to the pitcher of water. He took the old dishrag and dunked it in the cool water. He began to wipe away the blood on his mother's mouth.

They did not talk that night, Alexander as too scared and his mother too sick.

They went on like this for two days until Alexander felt it. He began to shiver despite it being 80 degrees outside. But that evening he was as sick as his mother. He knew many kids went this way. He had friends who died like this, so he wasn't entirely surprised this was happening.

The two slowly starved in the house. Alexander's mother was despised for being a divorced woman and Alexander for being a bastard. No help came and everyday, Alexander would look for food in trash heaps or any charity. A week went on in this state. Alexander was feeling as if God was not there. He prayed every night that they both might get better but no help.

It was terrible that last night. It was raining and the water dripped through the roof. Alexander and his mother were both soaking wet and the fire was reduced to embers, since the woodpile was soaked.

He and his mother lay on the bed together. The floor was wet and the cot was damp with mold so he had to share the tiny bed, both hot and were holding each other. Alexander was scared. He only had his mother and she meant more to him then his own life. She raised him the best she could given that his father gambled and was often not home.

"Alexander," his mother said in his ear. Her voice was coarse and a whisper but he heard her.

"Yes ma?" Alexander said turning to look at his mother in the darkness.

"I am so sorry. I am so sorry I couldn't give you a better life," his mother said.

"Mother don't say that," Alexander croaked.

"Alexander, I don't think I will be with you much longer. But know that I love you my special boy," she said a bit clearer. She sounded desperate that Alexander heard this.

"Please mother! You can't leave. We will get better I promise," Alexander said holding closer to his mother. Hot tears flooded his eyes.

"Alexander, you are so smart! Do not let this be the end. You can do great things, be everything I know you can be. You have a shot. Take it. Promise you will," she sighed.

"I will mother I will," Alexander said.

Over the course of that hour his mother slowly got weaker and weaker.

Finally she died. Alexander woke up and seeing his dead mother, let out a scream that shook the house. He cried for what seemed forever. He cursed God for this life. He was so angry that God would take everything away and that his mother had to die

Someone eventually took his mother away but he was left in the empty house. He was desperate. The rent would be due in a week, and he had no way to pay it. He did not want to end up in an orphanage or an indentured servant. He had to do something. For the first time he picked up a pen and wrote a letter to his late mother's land lord. He was still sick, but he had to get a job and fast. He had to fulfill his mother's dying wish. Mopping wouldn't get him anywhere.

"Alexander. Alexander. Alexander!" Eliza said. Alexander was pulled back. He was sitting back home in New York. He noticed his hands gripped the armrests and his knuckles were white.

"Betsey," Alexander said easing his grip and reality rushed back.

"Alexander, I have never seen your eyes so haunted. Please tell me," Eliza said kneeling down in front of him at eye level.

He knew he couldn't pass this off. When she looked him in the eye, she was the most concerned and serious. She didn't often do this, but when she did he knew he had to answer.

"I was remembering something. I was remembering my mother, Rachel," Alexander said.

"Oh, my dear!" Eliza said. She had grown up in luxury and had both parents, who loved her and her siblings. She felt a bit flustered, because Alexander never had opened up about this and she felt unprepared.

"She died when I was twelve. I will always remember the night she died. The night she said I had a shot," Alexander said. He looked hollow. Alexander wasn't crying but he felt lost. He hadn't given a thought about his mother in a long time, mostly because of the pain. That time was the worst time and he wanted to forget that island as fast as he could.

Alexander straightened up then and said, " Eliza you are the most brilliant mother and wife I could ever know. Caring and loving, I think if my mother had the proper life she would have been like you. Our children couldn't be luckier"

Eliza blushed from the complement.

"How did I get so lucky?" Alexander said standing up then.

She rose too and he kissed her.

"Alexander, I know your mother would be as proud of you as I am. I am sorry she is not alive so I could meet this woman who shaped you," she replied.

"Happy Mother's Day, Eliza, my love," he said smiling.


End file.
